


What Suits Best

by Azzandra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hair cut, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: Ingrid impulsively chops off her hair and needs a little help correcting the issue.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 16
Kudos: 163





	What Suits Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Archaeopteryx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeopteryx/gifts).



"Oh, Ingrid..."

Dorothea stopped before she said anything more, pressing her fingers to her lips instead. She managed--just barely--to make it look like she was thinking intensely about something, and not reeling in shock, because Ingrid's eyes were large and shiny, and Dorothea suspected they would spill over with tears at the wrong word.

But Ingrid was attempting to put on a brave face regardless, jaw clenched and back stiff, very deliberately not hanging her head despite the sorry state of her hair. 

Dorothea wondered where Ingrid had left her long braid after cutting it off, if it was currently on the floor of Ingrid's room in a pathetic pile, or if some hidden corner of the monastery was now littered with locks of blond hair as Ingrid hacked it off handful by handful. Had she done it with a knife, the poor dear? 

"Are you here to--borrow scissors?" Dorothea asked gently. "To finish the job?"

"Y-yes," Ingrid muttered. "Scissors. Do you... h-have any?" Ingrid's eyes slid past Dorothea and took in the room, and by the look on Ingrid's face, she'd clearly been hoping Dorothea also had a hairdresser stashed somewhere to go with the scissors.

Dorothea, in fact, had a lovely pair of scissors that she used to keep her split ends in check. She turned to her vanity table and rifled through a drawer, but as she glimpsed up at the mirror in front of her, she was treated to the sight of Ingrid regarding her own reflection with a look of such abject misery, that Dorothea knew right away she couldn't send Ingrid off on her own.

"Here we are!" Dorothea declared as she produced the scissors from the drawer. 

She swanned over to Ingrid with a smile, placing them into Ingrid's limp hand. Ingrid looked down at the scissors blankly, barely acknowledging their existence. 

"You know, I think I see what you were going for!" Dorothea said. Ingrid blinked slowly at Dorothea, who smiled her most winning smile. "It would suit you well, a shorter cut," Dorothea continued, and reached up to run her finger along the chopped ends of Ingrid's hair. 

Ingrid did not flinch away, but merely looked at Dorothea steadily, edging into suspicion. Perhaps she thought she was being mocked.

"Oh, but," Dorothea continued, as if just realizing something, "you don't have a mirror in your room, do you?"

"...No," Ingrid admitted, eyes falling to the floor.

"Then you simply must borrow mine!" Dorothea insisted. With a flourish, she twirled around and grabbed Ingrid's arm, moving her along to the vanity.

"I don't want to impose," Ingrid said quickly, but didn't really resist as Dorothea nudged her onto the stool in front of the vanity. She looked at the mirror, winced, looked away. "I can handle this myself, really, Dorothea."

"But I simply must insist!" Dorothea continued, and after looking Ingrid over, gestured for her to turn around.

Ingrid didn't quite understand, but she turned on the stool until she was with her back to the mirror. Good. Less fretting if she didn't see the mirror yet.

"Have you ever done this before?" Ingrid asked, now shaken out of that soft misery that did not suit her. She was not quite her stern self yet, but at least it was much closer than before.

"Of course," Dorothea said expansively, as she plucked the scissors out of Ingrid's unresisting hands. "Do you think I would trust anyone else with my own hair?"

She flipped the long brown tresses over her shoulder for emphasis, but Ingrid pursed her lips doubtfully.

"I don't think that's the same thing--" Ingrid began.

"Oh, hush," Dorothea said, and Ingrid fell quiet almost in spite of herself. Not willing to test the patience of the only person she could turn to for help.

What Dorothea did not add, because she did not seek pity and especially not from Ingrid, was that she did not always have hair this lovely. When she had been a street urchin, filthy and matted, she had suffered her own choppy disasters for the sake of--of not having lice, or not having something for others to grab. If she grew it out now, long and luxurious, if she shampooed and oiled and scented it with great care, that was in vengeance for all the years she did not have the possibility.

Dorothea swallowed around the lump in her throat as she ran her fingers through Ingrid's hair. It was good hair, though not as primped as Dorothea's. It was thick and healthy. It suited Ingrid.

Carefully, Dorothea found the spot where the hair was shortest: in the back, where Ingrid had probably cut off her braid at the stem. She could work with that. Ingrid would likely appreciate not having hair sticking to the back of her neck whenever she worked up a sweat.

With a comb and scissors working together, Dorothea began the meticulous task of evening out Ingrid's hair. There was somewhat more leeway for error with longer hair, and Dorothea did not have much to work with, so she paid close attention to her work as she cut. At least with every blond wisp of hair that fluttered down, Ingrid's shoulders seemed to lose a bit of their tension. Dorothea would not have been insulted if it was merely out of resignation, but she hoped this meant Ingrid was entrusting herself to Dorothea's hands. Certainly, Dorothea hoped Ingrid would be pleased with the end result: she was starting to look quite dashing already.

"Dorothea," Ingrid started, then stopped, swallowing dryly. "Thank you," she added more softly. "I know I did a foolish thing..."

"Nonsense," Dorothea retorted. "It's your hair. If you're sick of it, it's yours to dispose of."

"...I don't think many people would say the same if they saw me like that," Ingrid said.

"Plenty will say it once they see the end result though," Dorothea said, with an added titter.

For some reason, she felt a sort of glee now that the initial shock had worn off. Ingrid had done something that no doubt many women had thought of doing in a fit of pique, but had scarcely dared out of fear of social censure. That upright, _uptight_ Ingrid had so spit in the face of propriety filled Dorothea with a warm admiration. Well, why shouldn't she? What had propriety done for Ingrid lately, but foist a series of unwanted suitors on her?

Ah, but now Ingrid was going to turn heads in completely different ways. 

Dorothea admired her handiwork for a few moments before she leaned down and whispered into Ingrid's ear,

"Turn around."

Ingrid gathered herself visibly, squaring her shoulders like she did before mounting her pegasus, and turned to face the mirror. Her breath caught as she looked at herself, and then rushed out of her in an amazed exhale.

"Oh," she said, turning her head this way and that, reaching up to run her fingers through the hair, cropped short but even across her skull. "I look--"

"--Very handsome," Dorothea completed for her.

Ingrid blinked, and turned a charming red that was all the more evident crawling up her neck and to the tips of her ears.

"...Handsome, yes," Ingrid agreed. She met Dorothea's eyes in the mirror. "This is-- this is it. This is what I..."

Wanted? Needed? 

Ingrid did not quite finish the sentence, but she did not need to.

Dorothea shrugged, as though this was no great feat, when really, every woman who was so inclined in the monastery was going to be very thankful for her efforts once they laid their eyes on Ingrid. Not so lost under her hair anymore, Ingrid's lovely features were going to shine.

Ingrid rose up from her seat and, unexpectedly ebullient in her gratitude, threw her arms around Dorothea and picked her up in a hug. Dorothea gave an undignified squeak as her feet left the floor, but ended it in giggles. It was so nice seeing Ingrid cheerful for once.

Once Ingrid left, Dorothea turned to the mirror and looked at her own flushed complexion and shining eyes.

"My, I've really done it now," she told herself as her heart beat a wild tattoo.


End file.
